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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24141622">All the Nasties</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaacrichard/pseuds/isaac%20richard'>isaac richard (isaacrichard)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mr. Robot (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, au where tyrell and elliot realize theyre both crazy and fuck, elliot getting loved on. he deserves it, um yeah lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:14:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24141622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/isaacrichard/pseuds/isaac%20richard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrell shows up, and Elliot wants him worse than he thought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elliot Alderson/Tyrell Wellick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All the Nasties</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is just smut LMAO i truly believe they should have fucked in canon theres too much steam there man. to borrow a quote of leon’s: get that man laid : ) </p><p>title borrowed from the Elton john song. Its about being gay LOL</p><p>enjoy &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>He’s warm, </em>Elliot thinks. And he is, too: Tyrell Wellick is all heat boiling, bubbling beneath his pretty porcelain skin. Beneath his schooled features and plastic smile, beneath his mask, Tyrell Wellick is weak, and it infuriates him. He’s weak – needs to be led like a puppy on leash, hasn’t thought for himself since Joanna grabbed him by the balls and twisted, until he gave in and married her. She wore the pants, and it was no secret. Tyrell was weak, knew he was weak, and it gave him an inflated, sore sense of anger.</p><p> So, he’s boiling over just beneath the surface, and his skin above runs overwarm. Elliot rubs his hands underneath Tyrell’s dress shirt, scratching the soft skin of his belly. His fingertips tingle when he finds Tyrell’s skin, cold pressed against hot.</p><p> How did he get here? Moments ago, he had walked in to find Tyrell in his apartment, sticking out like a sore thumb among Elliot’s tattered couch and bare, empty-shelved kitchen. Just sitting in his computer chair must have been wrinkling his suit, and the sight of it gave Elliot pause.</p><p> “Elliot, I – ,” Tyrell had stuttered. He looked so lost; Elliot felt a pang of sympathy. This was not the brutal Tyrell Wellick he had once known. The farce had fallen away, finally, and Tyrell was proven to be a pathetic man. Elliot knows this, knows how he’s supposed to feel about the capitalist scumbag, and yet the pout in his pretty pink lips makes Elliot’s guts twist up, makes his dick pulse hard and heavy between his thighs.</p><p>“Shut up,” Elliot had said softly, dropping his bag and walking up to Tyrell, closing the space between them, and planting a long, wet kiss on his mouth. Tyrell opened up automatically, allowing Elliot to pull him down and kiss him deeply, sucking on the inside of his mouth like a teenager going overboard.</p><p> And now he finds himself shedding his hoodie, blinking deeply at Tyrell. Why was he here? Did something go wrong at Evil Corp? Is he going to back out of the operation?</p><p>It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Right now, Elliot is pent up, almost mad about how much he needs Tyrell like this, on him, around him, inside of him. It’s been too much almost-flirting, too many heated comments, too much “accidental” eye contact. It’s been driving him up the wall, with confusion as well as desire. Something about the determination Tyrell had, no matter how crazy, made Elliot want him.</p><p> Elliot licks up into Tyrell’s mouth, and Tyrell makes a surprised, though not unpleasant, noise. Elliot pulls away, satisfied at seeing Tyrell’s cherry-red mouth and stunned eyes. It did him good to be silent sometimes.</p><p> “You – “ Tyrell whispers, voice quivering. Elliot can see how hard he is just from that, eager for it, and feels a thrill go up his spine. “I love you.”</p><p> Elliot nudges at Tyrell’s neck with his nose, smelling his sweat where it’s collected under his collar. It makes him feel a little hysterical, the whole thing. He doesn’t love Tyrell – but he wants him so badly, it’s like a never-ending rhythm thudding out in his brain. <em>Tyrell. Tyrell. Tyrell. Tyrell.</em></p><p>“Show me,” Elliot says, and he knows that comes from Mr. Robot’s vernacular. Mr. Robot, who floats somewhere between here and there, who is surely getting one hell of a kick out of this. Elliot pushes the thought from his mind.</p><p> <em>You’re wound so tight you’re gonna burst, kiddo. Go get laid, for Christ’s sake. </em></p><p>Tyrell nods quickly, wetting his lips and falling to his knees, ruining his trousers on Elliot’s dirty floor. His fingers are so <em>big </em>when he undoes Elliot’s belt, pulls down his zipper, that Elliot immediately wants them inside him.</p><p> But for now, he gets Tyrell’s baby blues boring into him, and finding himself falling backward onto his frame-less bed. Tyrell gets his underwear around his ankles, and slots himself between Elliot’s knees. One of his hands trails up Elliot’s belly to rub over his nipples, and Elliot hisses, arches his back a bit.</p><p> <em>God</em>, he’s so sensitive. He didn’t bother with sex the way he imagined other people did, but in this moment, he can kind of understand what the deal is.</p><p> Tyrell kisses his stomach a few times, Elliot’s cock hardening right below his lips. Elliot’s hips buck up unconsciously, needing more touch, and Tyrell chuckles at him.</p><p> “You’re eager,” he mutters, like he isn’t palming himself through his clothes. There’s some kind of fire between them that makes Tyrell feel like he’s ten years younger: horny and eager and not caring about technique. He’s hot for Elliot, plainly said. He wants this just as much – probably more.</p><p> Elliot whines, soft and low, when Tyrell takes him in his mouth. His lips are excruciatingly warm, hot on the head of Elliot’s dick. Then he takes him, inch by delicious inch, all the way, until his nose presses in the coarse curls of Elliot’s pubic hair.</p><p>Elliot’s on his back now, Tyrell’s one hand gripping the inside of his thigh, kneading at the little bit of body fat he had. His other hand rests on Elliot’s stomach, rubbing at his belly. Elliot keens and throws his head back, unable to stop his hips from jerking forward in one – two – three hard thrusts.</p><p> Tyrell takes them beautifully, even though Elliot is being a bit rough. He’s unable to control himself in a way that should be embarrassing, if Tyrell wasn’t taking it all like he was born to do it. Tyrell eases off, releases him with a pornographic <em>pop, </em>and Elliot immediately misses the heat of him.</p><p> Tyrell leans over him, having finally lost his clothes, the monkey suit he polluted the world in heaped on Elliot’s floor. The look on Tyrell’s face is equal parts elated and possessive, and, as always, a little bit crazy. Elliot saw, and didn’t back away: they were kindred spirits, that way.</p><p>Not normal, or sane – not either of them, and Elliot honestly can't say if he wants to be anymore, or not. The threat of Tyrell's burns only stand to make him want the flame more.</p><p> Tyrell kisses him, and Elliot moans into it. He’s on fire, every molecule that makes him has been set alight, and Tyrell is fueling it. He pushes him – and God knew Elliot needed a kick in the ankles every now and again.</p><p> “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. “Lube – second drawer, please, I – I – think I’m gonna combust.”</p><p> “Combust,” Tyrell repeats, rummaging around above him. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”</p><p> Elliot frowns at him, and Tyrell laughs. His pupils are blown wide with lust, so the laughing doesn’t last long. In a second, he’s got two cold, slick fingers pressed against Elliot’s hole. Elliot whines, high and desperate now, rocking down and unintentionally dragging his dick against Tyrell’s stomach. He exhales hard at the friction, as if the wind were knocked out of him.</p><p> “You want me to fuck you?” Tyrell asks, voice the tiniest bit raspy, lips still pink from sucking Elliot’s cock. Elliot could cum from just the sight and sound, but instead he nods, spreading his legs a little wider.</p><p> Tyrell presses one finger inside of him, then two, and when the third finally joins, Elliot is painfully hard and openly weeping, everything so much and so <em>good </em>that it overwhelms him.</p><p> “Oh, God, Tyrell, <em>Tyrell, </em>fuck me, fuck me, please –“ Elliot’s babble borders on incoherent, he’s so turned on and taken with ecstasy. His dick is leaking onto the sheets, leaving hot wet marks he’s sure will embarrass him later.</p><p> “Elliot, Elliot,” Tyrell murmurs, and pushes inside. He stills momentarily, and Elliot groans, frustrated.</p><p> “Please move,” he says, in a voice that sounds high-pitched and needy and not his own.</p><p> And Tyrell moves. His hands around Elliot’s hips are warm and solid, pulling him closer. He smells like something metallic, like a watch, and like the faux-woodsy spice of his expensive cologne.</p><p> Elliot breathes him in, hot and greedy. He curves his hips, opens his legs wide, and meets Tyrell’s thrusts, rocking with him.</p><p> He moans stupidly loud and embarrassingly long. His orgasm is building quickly, thick and heavy, a red-hot coil writhing in his gut.</p><p>“Gonna, - gonna cum,” he warns, gone with it, blood rushing in his ears.</p><p> Tyrell swears in Swedish, a long string of vowels that make Elliot’s foggy head spin. He takes Elliot’s cock in his hand and jerks him slowly. That was all it took – Elliot cums hard, gasping. Tyrell works him through it, and he's grateful.</p><p> “You’re beautiful,” Tyrell is saying. He buries his face into Elliot’s neck as he thrusts hard, making Elliot’s vision blur, filling him up as he too climaxes. The lines of his body go rigid as he rocks his hips to get that last bit of friction.</p><p> They stay like that for a long few moments, Tyrell softening inside, Elliot able to feel where they were physically attached. Tyrell kisses the inside of his neck, and the upper jut of his jaw, before pulling out. Elliot shivers, missing the weight of him.</p><p> He doesn’t miss for long, though. Tyrell curls up beside him, apparently apt to leave the mess they’d made until the morning. Elliot tenses momentarily, not expecting Tyrell to stay. But Tyrell was completely naked and now nestled under Elliot’s sheets – he had no plans to go anywhere.</p><p> Elliot gives. Just this once, he gives. He pushes at Tyrell’s arm a few times, until Tyrell wraps it around Elliot’s shoulders, allowing him to set his head on his chest, listen to his heartbeat.</p><p> Elliot can feel Tyrell’s shock without looking at him and ignores it pointedly. He rifles over the edge of his bed until he comes up with his cigarettes, and lights himself one.</p><p> Tyrell takes it, to Elliot’s surprise, and they pass it back and forth in silence. Elliot feels boneless and deeply sated, that deep pull in his gut finally set loose. The nicotine pulls a fuzzy edge over everything and he leans back against Tyrell’s chest, the thud of his heartbeat in his ears. He sighs, and closes his eyes.</p>
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